


Picture Burn

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cake, Collars, Fauns & Satyrs, Flirting, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pictures, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faun!Charles watches faun/satyr porn and drinks wine. No big deal, except he hasn't watched movie like that before. <br/>It's a new experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a bonus and world presented in anon kink meme prompt [Modern day fauns and satyrs](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8700.html?thread=20496380#t20496380)
> 
> Filling a postage stamp from my KB card: oral fixation - pictures - fisting/stretching - collars. The story includes a scene where characters act a non-con situation.
> 
> Also, I took artistic liberties with satyrs and fauns, so apologies in advantage for those who have vast knowledge about mythological creatures.

Charles ordered the movie by accident. 

Well.

He was sure he had _tried_ to click on the section that said 'romance', but human terms were confusing, and his memories about that evening were hazy. Three bottles of excellent red wine, a brand new credit card and a spat with Raven and Erik about how he served the Virgin Goddess too well for his own good, and there you have it. One plus one, and a brown box dropped from the mail slot, thudding on the carpet and laying there as evidence. 

”Was that the mail?” 

”Yes,” he shouted and scooped the box up, shoving it in his briefcase just in time. Raven bounced down the stairs, pushing past him to get her glossy magazines. 

“I thought you were running late,” she noted, flipping through the first one. 

“I am. I can't find my keys,” he said. Raven glanced up, and nodded at his hand. 

“You are holding them. Are you alright? You look funny. The girls said there is this flu-sickness everywhere. It sounded disturbing.”

“I'm fine, ah, running late, must go!”

Charles hurried outside and galloped to the bus stop before he remembered that it wasn't really appropriate. He stopped to catch his breath and the people at the bus stop glanced at him curiously. He clutched his briefcase like they could tell what he had in there. Of course they couldn't, because humans didn't have that kind of magic, but still. It would be embarrassing to get caught with such a thing. 

When he got to his office at the University, he hurried to lock the briefcase in the bottom drawer. He started to take his coat off, when he realized that all his notes were in the briefcase. He turned to get it out again. He rummaged around the brown box, pulling out the papers underneath it as fast as he could. 

“Professor, are you alright?” his assistant asked behind his back, setting a cup of tea on his desk. “Did you lost something? I can help you to look?” 

He dropped the briefcase and slammed the drawer shut. He looked up and tried to smile. 

“Got it, thank you,” he said. “I've forgotten, what do I have today?”

“You have a meeting that's about to start,” assistant said, giving him a curious glance. Charles nodded and took the cup, sipping a quick gulp before heading back out. All day he avoided the office, but eventually it was time to go home and had to go get his briefcase. He put his coat on, wasting as much time as he could, before unlocking the drawer. He glanced inside the briefcase. The brown box was still there. 

He knew he should throw it away. 

But then again, he was a grown-up. In a manner of speaking. He had the credit card, didn't he? That's what the humans used to measure these things. A little plastic square and you were invincible, the strongest magic the human world had and he had used it.   
He could at least open the box, surely? To make sure it wasn't the romantic comedy. He could remember wrong and it would be shame to throw away a perfectly good movie by mistake. 

Charles took a deep breath and pulled the box out. It took him a moment to figure out how to open it before he realized to pull the tear strip and the cardboard folded open. A piece of white paper on top of the DVD case thanked him for the purchase, and advised how to contact customer service in case of any problems. He looked under the paper.

It wasn't a romantic comedy. 

He blushed and shoved the case back to his briefcase. The cover alone had been...Something else. He snapped the briefcase shut, clutched it under his arm and dropped the cardboard in the trash. The piece of paper he pushed in the shredder and the machine gave a hungry sound, the paper vanishing. Usually it was amusing, but this time Charles sighed in relief. 

Now, he would get rid of it and everything would be fine. 

Unfortunately there was no safe place to throw away a DVD on his route to home. Every trash can was out in the open, or full, or someone passed him by when he was about to open the briefcase. So he ended up back home, still carrying the DVD. He opened the door and bumped straight into Raven. She wore a sparkling outfit, her phone propped against her shoulder. 

“Charles! We're going clubbing, do you want to come?”

“No, thank you. I'm...bit tired,” he muttered and pushed past her. 

“He doesn't want to come, he's looking odd again. I think it might be the flu-sickness, everyone has it!” she said to the phone, sounding delighted about the prospect of witnessing this new thing. Charles pulled his coat off and walked in to the kitchen, briefcase under his arm. He started to make some tea. That always calmed things down. 

“Charles, I'm leaving! Bye!” Raven called from the door and before he could say anything, the door slammed shut and the house fell into a blessed silence. He made the tea and he was halfway in the second cup before he realized that Raven wouldn't be back before dawn. She loved dancing, and she would keep at it until her shoes broke and the bouncers pushed her out the door. 

He drank the tea, considering the idea. He could watch a minute, now that he had the movie. No one had to know. Five minutes from the beginning, tops, then he would throw it away.   
That felt like a good plan.

Charles put the tea cup in the sink and pulled a bottle of wine from the rack. He opened it with a practiced pop and grabbed a glass and his briefcase before heading to the living room. He set the bottle on the table and went to draw the curtains, then searched for the remote controls. He pushed the buttons, trying to remember what Raven had shown about the player and the television. She liked machines, and she usually did this part for him. He just liked the movies. 

The television blared loud and he searched for the right button to lower the volume. He pulled the movie out of his bag, with firm resolution not to look at the cover and cracked the case open. He picked the disc and placed it carefully in the player, writing side up like Raven had said. Then he retreated to the sofa, pouring a glass of wine before pressing play. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it, pulling his hooves up. Raven hated when he did that, but who cared. 

The player whirred, then the television screen turned black, then blue. There was music and the screen advised him to press menu if he wanted to skip the trailer show. He hurried to press menu, and then play.

The opening scene was a panorama shot of a countryside, a real place by the look of it. It was beautiful and Charles relaxed, sipping the wine. The credits rolled over the landscape, the music track combining flutes and piano, with bird singing over it. 

The title splayed across the screen and then the scenery changed, into a garden. It wasn't a real garden, the human structure was too obvious. Still, it was lovely. The camera zoomed to show a faun, who glanced at the camera and smiled. 

The faun was gorgeous. He had wide green eyes with the coveted high arching shape, his pupils narrow black slits. Charles recognized that as a marker for the royal blood in his genetic line, probably on the mother's side. He had shiny black hair, pulled up in luscious curls like a soft halo around his face, pink rosebuds stuck here and there. Charles scoffed and gulped the wine. Humans loved roses, but they really didn't mean what they thought they meant. 

The camera followed after the faun through the garden. He was gorgeous all over, his fur thick and lush silvery black that couldn't be faked with dye. The camera zoomed on his round rump for a moment, showing the white tip of his tail, then moved back up, showing his horns. Of course those were beautiful too, long and curved with the satin lustre of alabaster. Charles reached to touch his own horns, self-conscious. His didn't look like that, no matter how he polished them. 

The camera moved to show a dark figure at the edge of the garden. The satyr was tall, muscular and very naked. The faun seemed obvious to his presence. The satyr started to creep closer and the faun kept turning his back to him, like he hadn't the faintest idea that he wasn't alone. 

“I can guess where this is headed,” Charles declared to the screen, clutching the pillow closer. “Run little brother, run! Oh you won't to run, will you? No, you will bend over right there. That's an interesting tactic, but alright.” 

In the screen the satyr bounced, grabbing the little faun who struggled in his hold, making alarming cries. Charles scrambled for the remote and clicked the mute button. The situation was completely fake, that was clear, but the words the faun used were true in their language and that was upsetting. The satyr spoke, the camera zooming on him. He was handsome, dark eyes and sharp teeth, his hair braided in complicated pattern. The faun replied and the satyr laughed. Charles braved to click the sound back on. 

“...what should I do with you?”

“Let me go!”

They spoke in human words, their pronunciation perfect, but it didn't really look like they understood what they said. It was understandable. This talk made as much sense if they were reciting the side of the milk carton. If it was a real deal, there would be no talking, there would be fighting. 

The faun begged to be released, while the camera captured his tail wagging excitedly. Charles scoffed again and gulped his glass empty. He reached to fill it, when on the screen the satyr pulled a long gold chain dotted with round, drop like pieces of opal. Considering he was stark naked, it was bit of a stretch that the chain conveniently appeared in his hand, but Charles tried to suspend his disbelief about this. 

It was a lovely chain, and the little faun seemed to think so too, since the moment the satyr held it in front of his eyes, he fixed to stare it, forgetting all about the struggling. 

“Now, don't just accept it, brother,” Charles said, waving the glass at the screen. “Make sure it's not fairy gold, or otherwise you'll be done for nothing!”

That didn't seem to concern the faun. He started humming a happy little sound, reaching to capture the end of the chain that the satyr held just out of his reach. He swayed the chain on purpose, back and forth and the faun's eyes followed the movement. Charles sat back and clutched the pillow, trying not to look. He felt dizzy, as the camera stayed on the chain's end, on the flickering fire opal. 

“You know what he's doing, look away! It's a trap!”

The faun didn't look away and then he, predictably, slumped against the satyr's chest. The satyr wasted no time, looping the chain around the faun's slender throat. The faun kept humming, his skin mirroring the flickering burn of the opals, the warm orange tint spreading in waves across his chest. 

Charles gasped in surprise. You couldn't fake that reaction. That was true arousal. There was something between the satyr and the faun, beyond this acting business. Charles took the remote, his finger wavering on the stop button. He shouldn't watch this. It felt weird, like an intrusion. 

But before he could press the button, the camera dropped to show what effect all this had on the satyr. It was considerable. The camera zoomed in tight, and his massive cock filled the screen. Charles dropped the remote and clutched the pillow instead, biting the corner. He didn't want to see, honest, but he couldn't look away. It was too horrible and mesmerizing at the same time. 

The picture left nothing to imagination. The camera zoomed closer to show the veins in the shaft, the thick head, the few lavish tugs the satyr made, to underline the size of his cock in comparison to his hand. Charles bit the pillow harder. That couldn't be right.

The camera panned back to the wider shot and Charles released his grip on the pillow. The corner had torn and bits of foam spilled out. He didn't care. The satyr held the golden chain in one hand and pushed the other between the faun's legs, leering at the camera. The touch jolted the little faun out of his beauty induced reverie and he looked at the satyr, acting overtly surprised and distraught, like he hadn't seen this coming at all. 

“Please, I saw your tail wagging,” Charles said and emptied the wine glass in one gulp. This was nerve-racking. The faun squirmed in the satyr's hold, and it was unclear if he tried to get away or grind harder against his hand. 

“You won't get away with this,” the little faun said, looking defiant. “I will tell my Protectors and they will have your head.”

“I'll have yours first,” the satyr said and grinned, pulling his hand away and forcing him down to his knees. The camera zoomed on the faun's face as he stared up at the satyr. He might have been told to look reluctant or scared, but mostly he seemed excited. The satyr smirked and rubbed the tip of his cock against his mouth and cheek, his hand tangled in the faun's soft hair. He rubbed the root of the faun's horn in small circles. The faun grabbed the satyr's wrist, staring at him intently, the gold chain glimmering between their bodies, the dangling opals like flecks of fire.

“That's just unfair,” Charles muttered. Everyone knew that the horns were the weak spot, any faun would turn to putty when touched that way. It was devious to exploit it. Downright unethical. 

The little faun relaxed in the satyr's hands, his eyes shining bright, any attempts to appear reluctant disappearing like water down the drain. Charles shivered, clutching the pillow closer. He couldn't help imagining how it would feel if someone touched him like that. His mind provided a helpful visual of Erik's hands. Warm and wide and strong. Charles bit back into the pillow and stared at the screen. 

The satyr spent a good deal of time teasing the faun, massaging his scalp, tugging his shiny hair, the roses scattering to the ground. The camera tightened the zoom, lavishing on the difference between the faun's tiny and delicate mouth and the wide head of the cock. The combination looked impossible. There was no way his cock would ever fit in his mouth. He would break his jaw, or suffocate him. The faun didn't look hesitant at all, quite the opposite. He licked his lips, a quick move of his pink tongue.

“Don't do it,” Charles whispered when the little faun opened his mouth. The satyr muttered a word of endearment and Charles squealed to the pillow and closed his eyes for a second. 

The sound alone was just as thrilling, the quiet moans and then the wet, loud smack. Charles peeked. The faun sucked the tip in his mouth in strong pulls, staring at the satyr, the camera shifting to show him staring right back with same intent look. The little faun took more and more of his cock, the girth pulling his lips taut. Charles watched mesmerized. 

The satyr pressed his thumb in the root of his horn, pushing further down his throat. The little faun moaned delighted, like this was what he had waited. His eyes were half-closed, his expression blissful. The satyr kept at it, the camera inching closer to show how tight the faun's throat was, the veins popping as dark lines under his skin. The chain moved, the opals tumbling over his collarbone like a rock slide. The satyr grunted, close to bottoming. He gripped tighter the faun's hair and pulled slowly out, the sound wet and obscene. Charles drew a stuttering breath, his neck hurting just to look at that. The little faun looked disappointed and tried to chase after him, lips swollen and shiny with spit. The satyr laughed, using the chain collar to keep him out of reach on purpose. The faun whined, throwing disapproving glances at the satyr. 

When the faun managed to capture the tip between his lips again, the doorbell rang. The sound was startling and Charles leaped up, the glass slipping for his hand and clattering on the floor.

”Shit!” He struggled to get up and find the remote control at the same time, and he managed to step on the glass, which went to pieces under his hoof. ”Shit!”

The doorbell rang again. The remote control slipped between the sofa cushions, and he cursed again. He didn't bother looking for it, he went to the television and shut it there, the face of the little faun moaning with a mouthful of cock turning into the black screen.

The doorbell rang for the third time, then the mail slot clattered.

”Charles, it's me, open up.”

”Shit!” Of course it would be Erik, damn it. Charles froze in the middle of the room, panicked. He couldn't let him in! Maybe if he stayed quiet, he would leave?

”Open up, I know you are in there."

”Damn it,” he muttered and glanced at the mirror, running his hand through his hair. It was fine, right? Nothing happening here. He looked at the television, still dark. Everything was fine. 

He went to the door, pulling it open.

”Hi, Erik. Hi. What are you doing here?”

”Raven said you had the flu-sickness, I came to see how you are. The girls told to bring soup,” he said and stepped inside, handing him a white box. Charles looked at it, the printed white ribbon wrapped around it.

”This is cake,” he noted. Human food items were of little interest to Erik, and he rarely had the patience to distinguish them beyond edible and inedible.

”I know. You don't like soup,” he said, leaning closer and baring his sharp teeth. ”You like cake.”

By human standards it might have been a frightening gesture, but Charles felt an odd flutter in the bottom of his stomach.

”I'm not really sick. Raven is being silly,” he said. ”You know how she gets. Thank you though.” He still held the door open, but Erik ignored it and stepped further in.

”Then you can share the cake with me,” he suggested. ”You could make that tea stuff that you drink.”

Charles hesitated for a moment, but finally he closed the door. 

”Alright, if you like. Take your coat off, and come through to the kitchen.”

It was strange. Not once had he wanted to drink tea. Charles glanced back at him. His long tail was braided with brown satin, in fancy pattern. Charles frowned and went to put the kettle on.

He had gotten the cake on the plates, red velvet with buttercream frosting, when he heard the clatter of glass. His heart dropped to his knees. He rushed to the living room and found Erik picking up the broken pieces of the wine glass and setting them on a newspaper. He glanced up.

”You should buy those plastic things. Safer, the way you keep dropping these.”

”Yes, I know. It was an accident,” he said, hiding his relief. The DVD player still had a light but the television was dark. No way to know what was in the machine. ”Please, leave it, you don't have to do that.”

”Already done.” He folded the paper and held it out to him. ”Here.”

”Thank you. Come in the kitchen.”

He followed him, bowing his head when he walked through the door. The house was a bit tight for him, like most of the human dwellings. 

”I like your taste,” Erik noted and pulled a chair, sitting down. He hooked his hoof under the another one and pushed it out to him.

”Thank you?” he said, unsure what he meant. He tossed the glass shards in the trash and placed the cups on the table.

“I saw the DVD case on the coffee table. That's a good movie.”

Charles stared at him, mortified beyond belief. He didn't know what to say. “It's not mine,” came out before he could stop himself. “I'm not watching it.” 

“Too bad,” Erik said and reached to pull the cake plate closer. “I have their other movies too, I could've borrowed them to you if you liked.” He took a bite. “This doesn't taste like blood at all.”

“It's colored red with chemicals,” Charles corrected, unable to stop himself. He sat down, trying to grasp that Erik had the same movie and he seemed nonchalant about it. “Wait. There's more?”

“Sure. Five of them, actually. Don't you know? They are the hottest couple in the industry. They are gifted.”

“Couple?”

“I was in their wedding. There was cake there too, but that cake had real blood. Deer, I think. And we didn't exactly eat it, we...”

“Yes, thank you, I'm aware of the ritual, yes. They are married?” 

“If you didn't watch it, how do you know what I'm talking about?” Erik asked and leaned back, smirking. Charles tried hard not to stare the way his t-shirt stretched over his chest. He made a point to pick up the cake fork and pulling the other plate closer. 

“Well I saw the cover, alright?” Charles said, picking the cake. “The faun makes an impression. He's beautiful.”

“If you say so. I must get going, I didn't want to crash your evening,” Erik said and pushed the plate toward him, getting up. He leaned to peck a quick kiss on his cheek. “And that faun is a tuft of mangy rabbit fur compared to you,” Erik whispered quietly. He walked back to the front door, grabbing his coat in passing. 

Charles froze in surprise.

“What?” 

“Happy to see you don't have that flu-sickness,” he shouted cheerfully and opened the door. “See you tomorrow!” 

And with that he was gone. Charles stared at the closed door, the fork frozen half-way to his mouth. “What did he say?”


End file.
